Merciless
by Miss Special
Summary: A mercenary forces her way into the Beast Wars, planning on milking both sides as much as she can. Only after she becomes stranded just like everyone else does she realize just how far in over her head she is.
1. A Weasel in Maximal's Clothing

_Yes, it is revised! I didn't like how spare it was, so I've beefed it up. Mmm, beef.  
And, for the first-time readers: No romance. But one slightly obnoxious femme who thinks she's the one pulling the strings. Silly her._

A Weasel in Maximal's Clothing  
Chapter One of _Merciless_

She hoped she had the coordinates right. People would have told her she was crazy for coming out this far, if she'd actually told anyone where she was going. That, however, would invite competition, and she wanted all this for herself.

Assuming there was anything here. Maybe that quantum surge she'd detected while she was "fishing" was just some freak random occurrence and not the result of some conflict somewhere.

She was taking an enormous risk, coming out here. Supplies and fuel weren't cheap, and she hadn't been making much of a profit lately. There was just too much _peace_ around Cybertron these days.

Unfortunately, the planet in front of her didn't look very promising. It had plenty of life, to be sure, but so far her scanners weren't showing much in the way of intelligent beings.

But then, just before she was about to call it quits and head back to her native time and space, several small blips came up, some Predacon energy signatures, some Maximal.

A slow grin spread across her face. Though there were Transformer energy signatures, there were no energy signatures for engines. Could these really be the missing Maximals and Predacons? Could this really be the setup she'd always dreamed about?

She set in a course for a spot between the signatures and began the procedure to enter the planet's atmosphere, spirits riding high.

* * *

Cheetor congratulated himself on his innate ability to get himself into trouble. Waspinator kept dodging his shots, and it was all he could do to avoid getting hit by return fire, especially since there wasn't much room to dodge in the middle of a forest.

A shot from Waspinator grazed his shoulder. Waspinator gloated. Cheetor snarled and used the opportunity to shoot the wasp in the chestplate. Waspinator went flying with a "Bzzzzz!"

"Good riddance," Cheetor grumbled to himself. He took a moment to breathe, looking around just in case another Predacon might get the idea to make Cheetor's day a little harder.

He did not expect to see a large weasel-like creature coolly lounging on a branch. It looked slightly amused, and had probably been watching him fight.

"Hello," it said genially. Its voice us unmistakably female.

"Who are you?" Cheetor asked, wary of the smirking newcomer.

"My name's Mercy," she replied, grinning and showing off a set of pointy teeth. "I'm new here."

"I didn't hear anything about a stasis pod landing," Cheetor wondered aloud.

Mercy smiled and shrugged. "Dunno what to tell you."

"So you're a Maximal?" Cheetor asked. "Well, I guess you are, since you're not trying to kill me."

Mercy continued to look like she was enjoying a private joke.

"My name's Cheetor," the cat said. "We should probably get back to base before Waspinator brings any reinforcements."

"Lead the way," Mercy told him in extremely friendly tones.

* * *

Perfect! Mercy thought to herself as she and Cheetor went up the lift of the Axalon. Cheetor explained everything to Mercy on the way to the ship. Both the Maximals and Predacons were stranded on prehistoric Earth, where they'd had some run-ins with aliens. One such occurrence resulted in the quantum surge, which had transmetallized some of the Beast Warriors.

Mercy transformed from mink to robot, keeping a slight smile on her face. She'd have to keep her happiness relatively concealed if she wanted to keep her game going until the right time.

"Look what I found!" Cheetor announced to the Maximals in the control room. Mercy's smile momentarily disappeared. "Found" indeed! She'd found him, not the other way around! It was a minor thing, though, and Mercy's smile returned.

The Maximals stared at her.

"We haven't detected any stasis pods…" Optimus started.

"Yes, Cheetor established that," Mercy answered.

"This is Mercy," Cheetor told everyone.

"Are you a medic, then?" Rhinox asked.

Mercy's smile widened. "No."

"If you're not from a stasis pod, how did you get here?" Optimus said.

"A ship," Mercy stated simply.

Rattrap was looking her up and down suspiciously, not looking at her physique (which wasn't anything terribly grand), but looking for something…

"I don't see a Maximal symbol anywhere on 'er," he observed.

Mercy shrugged.

"You ain't a Maximal, are ya?" he accused.

"I'm not a Predacon, either," Mercy replied, knowing the best part of the game was coming.

Cheetor stepped away from her. "Then what are you?"

Mercy's smile turned into a full-blown grin, complete with an expression of utter deviousness. She loved this part.

"A mercenary," she said.

The more experienced Maximals looked disgusted. Silverbolt looked somewhat confused and Cheetor didn't understand.

"I'm neutral in faction," Mercy explained, "but my skills can be bought for a price."

"She plays da sides against each other fer a profit," Rattrap said.

"Oh, now you're treating me like I'm the bad guy," Mercy said, pretending to pout.

"Have you no loyalty?" Silverbolt asked her.

Was this guy for real? Asking a mercenary about loyalty? "Nope," she brightly replied. "Not a smidgen of it. Completely neutral."

"Try the Predacons," Silverbolt said, glaring at her. "We have no need of your services."

"Oh? According to Cheetor, you're outnumbered."

"Be that as it may," Optimus answered, giving Cheetor a reprimanding look, "we're willing to take our chances without you at the moment."

"At the moment," Mercy echoed, still smiling. "Well, then, I'll see you later."

"Hold on a moment," Rattrap said before Mercy showed herself out. "Why come t' us first? You know Maximals don't like mercs."

Mercy shrugged. "You're also less likely to shoot me on sight. Working for each side has its advantages and disadvantages. See you around!" She flashed them a grin before finalizing her exit.

"That arrogant li'l…" Rattrap caught himself before he let loose a curse in front of Cheetor. "Struttin' about like she owns da place."

"She has reason to," Optimus said. "We're prime targets for just this kind of thing. We could use another ally, but we're not _that_ desperate yet."

"But what if the Preds hire her?" Cheetor wondered.

"She seems to be an experienced mercenary," Rhinox said. "She's not going to work for them for too long at a time. She knows we're stuck here, and she's going to use that to her full advantage."

"Da Beast Wars just got a whole lot more complicated," Rattrap said, stating the obvious.

* * *

Mercy sat perched on a rock near the perimeter of the Predacon base, too deep in thought to be smiling. She was serious at the moment. Dealing with Predacons was a tricky thing. She could get killed if she went about this the wrong way. But that was the hard part.

Rhinox's observations were correct-- she was a very experienced mercenary. It was the perfect occupation for her, and she loved nearly every moment of it.

She didn't really care if the Predacons hired her or if the Maximals did. The Predacons were more likely to hire a merc, but they were also much less likely to pay her fee when collection time came. The Maximals despised the mere thought of a merc, but if they really needed one, they would pay.

And if neither side took any interest in her, she could always go somewhere else. This was the best looking situation of her career, but she could always find work on another planet. Wherever there is strife, there is need for a mercenary.

But how to get her foot in the door? If push came to shove, she could wait for a Predacon as naïve as Cheetor, but that still didn't decrease the likelihood of getting shot at.

Wait… there was a chance the autodefenses were rigged so that they'd only shoot at Maximal energy signatures. And if this was the case…

Mercy jumped off her rock and ran by one of the autodefense turrets, stopping when she was out of range. She looked back over her shoulder at the turret, which hadn't fired a shot.

This didn't necessarily mean she could waltz in and speak with the leader, but she could at least get to the perimeter without getting shot at. Which is exactly what she did.

She inspected a turret for a camera or something along those lines. Finding a camera lens, she tapped it and smiled into the camera.

That oughta get their attention.

Sure enough, a tall, red, menacing Predacon came running.

"What business have you with the Royalty?" he demanded.

"Royalty?" This Predacon was… odd.

"The Queen of the Colony!"

Queen? The leader of the Predacons was Megatron, or so Cheetor had said, and Megatron was a mech.

"I wish to speak with the Queen," Mercy replied, not sure if she was going about this the right way. "I have an offering for the Royalty." She smiled up at the large bot innocently.

The bot stared at her for a very long moment. He then tapped into his comm.:

"Royalty!"

"What _is _it, Inferno?" The voice on the other end was male. It occurred to Mercy that she should concentrate on more important things than why Megatron was referred to as the "Queen".

"An unknown drone brings you an offering," Inferno reported.

"What kind of offering?"

"What kind of offering?" Inferno relayed, apparently not aware of the fact that she could hear Megatron just fine.

"It'd be best if I present it in person," Mercy said.

"She requests an audience with you, my Queen."

"I can hear her, Inferno."

"Yes, my Queen."  
"Whoever you are," Megatron said, addressing Mercy, "I am a very busy tyrant, and I have little time for whatever game you're playing. State your business, which had better interest me, or Inferno here shall see to it that there isn't enough left of you to identify should anyone try to do so."

"Very well," Mercy said, a touch peeved and disappointed, "I'm a mercenary. I've come here to see if you have any interest in some hired help. I've got credentials, if you want to see them."

"Mercenary, yesssss… Inferno, being her in, but watch her to make sure she doesn't try anything."

"Understood!"

* * *

Wow, this place was a dump. The Predacons definitely picked a bad place to crash-land. Between the pools of lava, smell of sulfur permeating everything, and bad lighting, she wondered how any self-respecting bot could call what was left of the ship "home".

"The Queen grants you your audience," Inferno told her. "You are to be respectful at all times."

"All right." Inferno was definitely a weird one. She made a mental note to be careful around him.

"Royalty!" Inferno addressed the purple mech sitting in a throne-like chair. "I have brought the 'mercenary'."

"Good," Megatron looked at Mercy skeptically. "You call yourself a mercenary?"

"I _am_ a mercenary, thank you very much. My credentials." She pulled out a handful of papers and certificates and went to hand them to him. Inferno stopped her before she got close.

"You do not approach the Royalty without consent!"

"Hand them to Inferno," Megatron told her. She felt like saying something mean, but caught herself before she did. First impressions were essential in situations like this. She handed the papers to Inferno, who gave them to Megatron, who looked them over thoroughly.

"You seem to have an excellent record," Megatron confirmed, handing them back to Inferno, who returned them to Mercy.

"Why, thank you," Mercy said sweetly.

"What is the Mercenary's Code?" the Predacon leader quizzed Mercy.

"There isn't one," Mercy replied, annoyed at all the skepticism. "Mercs follow their employer's orders. If we don't follow orders, we don't get paid."

Megatron smiled at her. "Well done."

"Now that I've proven myself," Mercy said, "shall we move on to business?"

"Indeed. You do know the Predacons already outnumber the Maximals, correct?" Megatron said. "Why would we need another to join our ranks?"

"Because then you'd outnumber them even more," Mercy said coolly, smiling a little. Things were going better now.

"Excellent," Megatron laughed. "I trust your rates are reasonable?"

"It depends. If you want me to be a Pred for a day, that's pretty cheap. But if you want me to, say, assassinate someone, it's gonna cost you."

"How much?"

"Assassination? More than you can afford." Mercy smiled.

"Job security?"

"Something like that. Wouldn't be profitable to end the Beast Wars on my first day here."

"Nooo," Megatron agreed. "Well, Miss Mercy, I think we can arrange something that will work for us both, yessss."

They worked out the details. Mercy would become a Predacon for a designated amount of time, during which she would be appointed a task or two. If she succeeded during the allotted time, she would be paid. If she didn't, well, too bad. The deal was sealed with a handshake.

* * *

Mercy returned to her well-hidden ship that evening, extremely pleased with her first day in the Beast Wars. She'd established contact with both sides and even been hired!

Mercy smiled to herself as she drifted off to sleep, comforted by the quiet noise of her ship's systems, knowing that luck was turning things in her favor, at least for the moment.


	2. Predacon for a Day

Predacon for a Day  
Part 2 of _Merciless_

The dust coated her fur unpleasantly. One thing she really liked about her beast mode was its pelt, and it was getting dusty as she walked up a hillside.

It was a minor annoyance, really, but it was compounded by all the other annoyances she was currently putting up with. One annoyance was named Waspinator, and the other was Quickstrike.

She was sure Megatron was setting her up for a fall. These two had to be the most incompetent Predacons in the history of ever.

Her mission was to take the Predacons under her command to a specific place, where they would construct a jamming tower, and then guard it. A task easier completed alone, rather than done with two incompotents to watch over.

Waspinator buzzed ahead, as per her orders. He was the sentry while she and Quickstrike hauled the equipment up the hill.

Speaking of Quickstrike, she was about ready to maim him. He'd hit on her at least five times already, and if he did it again, she'd--

"Y'sure you don't want me to take your load? A pretty femme like you shouldn't be exertin' herself so much."

Mercy shuddered, suppressing the urge to rip the scorpion-snake's legs off.

"Do you want me to tell your 'sugar-bot' you've been eyeing another femme?" she hissed, smiling out of malice.

"That… sure is a pretty grin you got there," Quickstrike said, trying to sound complimentary but sounding submissive instead.

"We're almost to the top," Mercy said, changing the subject. "Waspinator, do you see anything unusual? Like a Maximal?" Better be clear with this one.

Waspinator looked in every direction before answering, "Negative. No Maximals in sight." He made happy buzzing noises.

"Good," Mercy said, pulling her load the last few inches. "Keep lookout while Quickstrike and I set up the array."

"Ooh, Waspinator likes lookout."

Good for him, Mercy thought as she picked up the first support strut and got to work.

* * *

Mercy stepped back, looking at the finished jamming array. It had taken a little longer than expected to complete it, thanks to Quickstrike, but Waspinator hadn't seen a Maximal, so things were going decently.

She climbed the array to get a better vantage point. Looking out over the landscape-- a land of hills and dust, occasionally dotted with a tree or two-- she couldn't help but smile. She loved her job, even if it meant being stuck with a couple of idiots.

"What d'we do now?" Quickstrike asked.

"_You_ go outside the array's range and tell Megatron it's up and running. Then you come back here and help me make sure it doesn't get blown up."

As Quickstrike left, grumbling rather loudly to himself, Mercy returned to grinning.

"Weasel-bot smiles too much," Waspinator observed.

"Weasel nothing," Mercy replied tartly. "I'm a mink."

"It's all da same," said a new voice. Mercy looked down at-- what was his name? Rattrap?-- who happened to be aiming a gun at her.

Mercy's smile disappeared. No time to reprimand Waspinator on his apparently lacking sentry skills; if she wanted to pull this one out of the hole, she'd better act fast.

So she did. She jumped off the array and ran straight at Rattrap full-tilt.

Rattrap managed to fire off a shot before Mercy barreled into him, knocking them both over.

"Quick, grab his gun!" Mercy ordered Waspinator, who was idly watching the odd actions of the mercenary. He hesitated a moment, then landed, transformed, and wrenched the gun out of Rattrap's hand.

"Crazy femme! Get offa me!"

Mercy obliged. Really, her recent action had pushed her farther out of her comfort zone than she liked. It had been a desperate move.

She drew her own gun, pointing it at the now unarmed Maximal, who stood, hands in the air.

"I can't believe that worked," Mercy laughed, more out of discomfort and relief than amusement. "Watch him, Waspinator. And actually _watch_ him this time or you'll be needing a trip to the CR tank. _Understood_?"

"Understood."

Mercy checked out the wound on her arm. It hurt, but wasn't terribly serious.

"Leave it to you Maximals to miss anything vital even under pressure," Mercy said. "I see you're one of those Maximals who shoot girls."

"You're a fine one to talk! What kinda femme throws herself at guys?"

"Desperate ones. _Very_ desperate."

"What should we do with the Maximal?" Waspinator asked, keeping his and Rattrap's gun trained on Rattrap.

"Let me think…" she said deviously, though she really did need to think. Killing (or almost killing) him would probably make the Maximals hate her to the point where they won't have anything to do with her, and that would be bad for business. Besides, she wasn't getting paid to kill anyone. But she _was_ a Predacon today, and she should act as such.

"Knock him offline," she said finally, shrugging.

Waspinator obeyed, this time without hesitation.

* * *

Time wasn't on Mercy's side today. Pretty soon, the Maximals would come looking for their missing comrade, and Quickstrike still hadn't gotten back from contacting Megatron.

Not to mention that Rattrap could come online at any moment. She wasn't sure what to do with him. Megatron would undoubtedly prefer the Maximal dead to captured.

She checked the position of the sun-- afternoon. Just to make sure, she opened a panel on her wrist and looked at her digital chronometer. She still had a megacycle to wait before the contract ran out, and she had to keep the jamming array operational until then.

Quickstrike _still_ hadn't gotten back…

Earlier, Waspinator had buzzingly informed her that previous arrays didn't jam Predacon communication lines, but this one was apparently calibrated to jam any signal no matter who sent it.

Where the slag was Quickstrike???

"Waspinator!" she barked, finally giving up on the fuzor.

"Yes?"

"Stay here and guard the array. Under no circumstance must you let it fall!" Well, that was a bit extreme. Even if she failed today, she'd still have a shot with the Maximals. "And watch the prisoner! Make sure he doesn't wake up, or if he does, knock him out again. I'm leaving the jamming area so I can report to Megatron. Do you think you can handle this?"

"Waspinator can handle anything!"

"That's the spirit! Here's your opportunity to upstage Quickstrike!"

"Waspinator will not disapoint!" Waspinator saluted.

You'd better not, Mercy thought.

Mercy jogged her way out of the jamming area. Her beast mode may have luxurious fur, but it wasn't very good for running.

As soon as she was sure she was out of the array's range, she said into her borrowed comm unit, "Megatron!" Megatron didn't trust her enough to give her the decoding chip, so she was stuck with a two-bit piece of junk to communicate with. "Megatron, do you read? This is Mercy."

"Ahh, yessss, Mercy," came the crackling reply.

"The array is up and fully operational." She looked over towards the array, squinting her optics against the late afternoon sun. Yes, it was still there, she could barely make out its silhouette.

"It should have been that way several megacycles ago."

"I sent Quickstrike to report to you as soon as we finished construction, but I haven't seen or heard from him since." She would've liked to have asked if he knew about Quickstrike's whereabouts, but time was running thin and she couldn't afford to spend any on sneaking suspicions.

"You have a little more than half a megacycle left in your contract," Megatron said. "Do not forget that."

"I know. Mercy out."

Mercy moved to start her way back to the array, but seized up momentarily from energon overload. Unaccustomed to the sensation, she dumbly tried to think of a remedy of the situation and remembered that was why she needed a beast mode.

She muttered the command words to transform and headed towards the array without much grace.

* * *

She wasn't far from her destination, when she sensed something was wrong. Waspinator wasn't buzzing around the top of the array like she'd hoped he was.

She paused before climbing up the hill the array was built atop of. Praying her energon resistance had rebuilt enough, she transformed and quietly slunk her way to the top.

She looked around. She couldn't tell if the array was still operational, but it looked okay, except for…

It took her a moment for her to recognize the detonation charges. It wasn't hard to surmise the situation: Rattrap had woken up, overpowered Waspinator, set the charges, and left.

Well. Mercy wasn't an experienced mercenary for nothing. She knew how to defuse a bomb.

Each charge was set on an opposing support strut, so Mercy went for the nearest one and looked it over.

Yes, she'd seen this kind of charge before. Defusing one was tricky if one didn't know how, but Mercy had done this several times before and knew what she was doing.

Taking a small set of wire clippers from her sub-space compartment, she was about to get to work, when she heard a click come from behind her.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," said the heavily-accented voice.

"I wouldn't be so hasty," Mercy replied, smiling calmly. "I could slip and cut the wrong wire. Wouldn't it be a pity if both of us were to get blown to pieces?"

Rattrap pushed his gun into her back and yanked the clippers out of her hand. He took the gun away from her back but kept it trained on her, in case she should get any ideas.

"Da charges are set to blow in less than two cycles," Rattrap told her. "I was tryin' ta give ya a chance ta run."

"Running would be bad for business." She quickly calculated in her head: Megatron said she had half a megacycle left and it had taken her maybe twenty-five cycles to get back to the array. Give or take several cycles-- estimations were too inexact. How much time did she have before the contract expired? She couldn't check her chronometer, and cutting a deal with an opposing side would show disloyalty.

And there was also the matter of her strategic disadvantage. But, if she sidestepped…

She dropped to knee and rolled to the side, knowing that if Rattrap fired now, he'd risk hitting a charge.

Still near the ground, she swept out with a leg and took Rattrap's feet out from under him. As he fell towards the ground, she lunged for his gun, but missed. Her momentum kept her going, and she took a few steps to keep her balance, but tripped on something.

She jumped back to her feet, stepped back over an offline Waspinator (which was the thing that tripped her) and drew her gun.

…Where had Rattrap gone?

She frantically looked around. He wasn't near the array.

She instinctively ducked as two shots sailed just overhead and then dove for cover. She found it behind a rock barely large enough to give her shelter.

Slaggit, where was he firing from?

As another shot went by, she was able to trace it to where it originated. There! A rocky outcropping on the hillside!

Mercy futilely returned fire, knowing the best she could do was keep him at bay.

This wasn't going to work. She had to do something with the charges before time ran out-- _How much time was left?_

As Rattrap's shots chipped away at her miniscule cover, she realized he was doing the same thing, keeping her in one place until the charges could detonate.

Stupid Maximal values! If she wanted to get herself killed, that was her decision!

"That's it!" Mercy growled. She'd hadn't been smiling since before the firefight had broken out.

Several things happened almost all at once.

Mercy broke cover, intending to run to the array.

There was a small triple-beep.

Mercy managed two steps.

The charges detonated, sending dust, debris, Predacon, mercenary, and Maximal flying.

Knocked silly, it took Mercy several moments to recover. Her optics were glued to the remains of the array, charred and smoking.

The triple-beep… It was a sound so familiar to Mercy that she sometimes didn't realize she heard it. She drew her chronometer from sub-space and checked it. It had stopped.

More importantly, it had stopped before the array exploded.

She turned to see Rattrap, still a little woozy, aiming his gun at her but holding fire. She grinned hugely back at him.

Showing him the chronometer, she said, "I'm neutral again."

"Ya sure are happy fer someone who just got blown up." He didn't lower his gun, but he relaxed a little.

Knowing he wouldn't shoot her unless she threatened him (Maximals are so predictable!), she stood and brushed herself off.

"Mission complete," she said smugly, taking in the devastated scene. She took a couple steps toward the Predacon base.

"What, you're goin' back ta Megatron?" Rattrap asked, putting his gun away.

"Just long enough to report and give him back his comm unit. Contract stipulated I was supposed to return all Predacon technology." She sighed. "I suppose that includes Waspinator."

She grinned at him again. "Hope to do business with you soon. If you need me, don't hesitate to ask." She went over, picked up one of Waspinator's limbs, and started dragging him towards the Predacon base.

"Fat slaggin' chance," Rattrap muttered. "Crazy femme."


	3. Weasel's Luck

_Note: It doesn't matter a whole lot at the moment, but the time period for this part (and the previous parts) of Merciless is late in season 2._

Weasel's Luck  
Part Three of _Merciless_

She knew her lucky streak wouldn't hold out forever. In light of the fact that the only mission she'd been hired for during her entire stay on this planet had literally blown up in her face, not to mention that she hadn't had any success in getting either side to hire her after that episode, she could safely say that the lucky streak that brought her into the Beast Wars had completely deserted her.

Well, Mercy was nothing if not persistent. She'd been tailing the Maximals as much as she could, waiting for the right moment to convince them they needed her.

Of course, the Maximals hadn't been too happy once they'd noticed their movements were being closely watched by a "money-grubbing mercenary," but that was their problem. If they wanted to harbor misconceptions, she wasn't going to force them to change their mind.

And thus, early each morning for the past two Earth weeks, Mercy had left her small ship hidden under holographic camouflage and gone to seek out the Maximals.

Some days were better than others. Some days, she couldn't find them. Other days, the timing or situation had been wrong. The key was patience.

* * *

On this fine, sunny day, Mercy was watching the Maximals mine energon. There were four of them: the leader, the Fuzor, the cat, and the rat. They had to go far from their base to find usable energon apparently, and the rocky terrain seemed to be relatively plentiful with the stuff.

In beast mode, peeking over a rock, she watched the Maximals go about their business, not particularly caring if they noticed her. She wasn't going to do anything as long as there wasn't a need.

It was the cat who spotted her. He first made to shoot at her, but when he realized who it was, he said, "Oh, it's you again."

"Good morning," Mercy replied amiably. "How's the mining going?"

"Forget it, Mercy," the leader told her. "We don't need your help today."

Mercy took note that the leader- Optimus Primal, she reminded herself- was progressively losing his politeness with her.

"We won't need ya tomorrow, either," Rattrap informed. "Or the day after that, or the day after that."

"So you can just go back to wherever you came from," Cheetor finished.

"It'll take more than that to get rid of me," Mercy answered pleasantly.

"If you try anything…" Cheetor warned.

"'Trying anything' on my own would violate my neutrality. I'm just observing."

"And how do we know you are not working for the Predacons?" the Silverbolt asked, just as annoyed at her presence as the rest of the Maximals.

"If I was a Predacon, I would've done something by now."

"'Sides," Rattrap said to Silverbolt, "with the way her last job turned out, the Preds aren't too keen on hiring her back."

Slagging rat. Mercy kept her smile fixed on her face.

"Get back to work," Primal told the gloating Rattrap. "Cheetor, Silverbolt, take the energon we've mined so far back to base."

"But what about _her_?" Cheetor protested.

"She said she won't try anything, and I believe her."

What a wise leader he was! Mercy grinned at Cheetor as he and Silverbolt flew off with the energon.

Optimus and Rattrap were about to get back to work when Inferno popped up from behind a rock.

"For the glory of the Royalty!" he proclaimed just before he fired at the Maximals. Waspinator and Quickstrike came up scant moments behind him, following his lead.

Predacon attack! Mercy's fur stood on end-- this could be the opportunity she'd been waiting for!

The Predacons continued fire as Primal and Rattrap took cover.

"You're outnumbered!" Mercy shouted over Inferno's proclamations that the energon was meant for the Queen and not the Maximals.

"We don't need you help!" Rattrap called back, returning fire on the Predacons.

"Except that you're fighting on an energon mine," Mercy reminded him while ducking away from stray shots.

"We can handle a few Predacons," Primal answered.

"All right," Mercy conceded. "If not today, maybe tomorrow. I can wait."

Optimus Primal recognized the subtle threat, good for him!

"This isn't the time to negotiate prices," he told her, firing at the Predacons ineffectively.

"Oh, I assure you, they're very low! There's a first-time discount!" Was her persistence really going to pay off?

Optimus didn't answer. And then…

"Fine!"

"Deal!" Without a moment's hesitation, Mercy transformed and began her own assault on the Predacons. Their combined fire, combined with the fact that the Predacons had been exposing themselves to energon unprotected while waiting for the right time to attack, brought the battle to a close in a few short cycles.

Once they were sure it was safe, the Maximals and Mercy left their cover.

"Have you blown a transistor or somethin'?" Rattrap demanded of Optimus. "You just hired a mercenary!"

"I know what I did," Optimus said. "Mercy was going to keep following us until we gave in. I'd prefer it sooner rather than later."

Mercy beamed at them.

"Let's get back to work. Mercy," Optimus turned to the mercenary, "You are to stand watch and tell me when Cheetor and Silverbolt get back. You'll receive further instructions then."

"Understood!" Mercy saluted and took up a perch on a taller rock, scanning the horizon.

* * *

"They're here," Mercy reported.

Optimus put down the rock he'd been moving and watched as Cheetor and Silverbolt landed.

"Hey," Cheetor greeted. "Did I miss anything?"

"Yeah, Optimus had a temporary lapse of judgment," Rattrap replied.

Optimus shook his head, then said, "Cheetor, escort Mercy to the base and tell Rhinox to put her to work."

"_What?!_"

Mercy kept quiet, but she didn't particularly like the sound of being "put to work."

"She's one of us now," Rattrap said.

"Bigbot, you couldn't have!"

"I did," Optimus said calmly. "Take her to base."

Cheetor glared at Mercy for a moment and grumbled, "Follow me."

* * *

Since Mercy lacked flight capabilities, the trip was taking much longer than Cheetor would've liked. Mercy could tell by his scowl.

"Relax, kid, it's not the end of the world," she said.

"Don't call me kid."

Mercy rolled her beady mink eyes. Great.

"As long as I'm a Maximal, I play by Maximal rules," she explained. "I'm not going to plot, question orders, or otherwise cause trouble. It's terrible for business."

"Wouldn't deception also be bad for business?"

"Is that was this is about?" Mercy laughed, cynicism creeping into her voice. "I technically didn't do anything wrong. When you met me, I never said I was a Maximal, you just assumed I was."

"And you let me!"

"It could've happened to anyone." Well, that wasn't exactly true. It could've happened to anyone not jaded and suspicious.

"Another thing," Cheetor continued. "You didn't tell Cybertron where we were, did you?"

"I wasn't even sure you were here." She hadn't wanted to run the risk of Cybertron mounting a rescue operation, because she'd have been the one footing the bill if nothing came of it.

"And why don't you stay on one side? I bet the Preds would love to have you stay with them."

"Too risky. If the Predacons lose, I don't get paid. Same thing if I stayed with the Maximals. By switching sides, I ensure that I win. Yeah, I know I'm a selfish little thing."

"Couldn't have said it better myself."

* * *

"Back already?" a deep voice asked as the lift carried Mercy and Cheetor into the Maximal base.

"Optimus told me to bring her here," Cheetor automatically explained as they stepped off the lift.

"Did he," Rhinox said conversationally. "Mercy, is it?"

"Yes," Mercy answered in her most friendly tone.

"You're supposed to put her to work," Cheetor said.

"Good, I could use an assistant," Rhinox said, nodding. "You can go back to Optimus, Cheetor."

"Are you sure?" Cheetor shot a suspicious look at Mercy.

"We'll be fine," Rhinox said. Cheetor reluctantly turned around and headed out.

"You know how to use a welding torch, right?" Rhinox asked Mercy.

Welding torch?

"Yes, I've had some experience with one," she said, a little wary.

"I'll set you up with one, then." Rhinox got up from his seat at a computer console, disappeared down a corridor for a moment, then came back with a torch and some scrap metal.

"The outer hull needs some repair work, but none of us have had much time to repair it," the large mech explained.

"I see," Mercy said, spirits flagging. Maintenance bot work. _Great_.

* * *

By late afternoon, Mercy was sitting on the top of the ship, putting finishing touches on the last of the hull repairs. It had been hot, dull work, and Mercy was only mildly pleased with herself.

She turned the torch off, taking a moment to rest. If she were working for the Predacons, she wouldn't have dared taking even the tiniest of breaks, but the Maximals were much more forgiving.

"Slacking off, are you?"

Mercy jumped, caught completely off guard. She looked at Optimus Primal, who had come up on the roof without her noticing.

Had she been wrong about the Maximals always being soft? Was taking a break going to cost her her job?

"Relax," Optimus said. "I was just coming up to see how the repairs were coming."

Mercy smiled, not out of amusement, but because she was relieved to be right.

"And?" she asked.

"From what I can tell, you've done a decent job," Optimus said.

"I've had experience in repairing my own ship," Mercy explained. "Anyways, I'll be done soon."

Optimus nodded and left.

Mercy chided herself as she returned to welding. The Maximals had returned, and she'd been so busy that she hadn't heard them! A Predacon could have come along, and she wouldn't have noticed that, either! Was her game slipping?

She turned the torch off for the final time and rose, glad that the task was finished. She entered the base, making a show of dusting off her hands and looking smug.

"What next?" she asked no one in particular, hoping the next assignment would be more enjoyable.

"You'll have to wait," Optimus said. He and the rest of the Maximals were crowded around the console in the center of the control room.

Mercy peeked over Rattrap's shoulder to see what they were looking at so intently.

They were watching a holographic display of a sector and a Predacon energy signature. The minimal terrain the hologram showed looked familiar…

"Where is this?" Mercy asked politely.

"Sector Phi," Rhinox answered absently. Mercy's trademark smile faded.

"What would someone be doing there?" Silverbolt wondered aloud. "There is nothing there but grassland and rolling hills."

"I don't know," Optimus said. "But since we've run into Waspinator, Inferno, and Quickstrike today, that doesn't leave too many who're fully operational."

Mercy had a good guess as to what was going on in sector Phi.

This was bad. She could lose everything. She had to stop them, but she couldn't abandon her job. If she left now, without explaining what was going on, her reputation would be ruined.

But if she told the Maximals, she'd lose a considerable edge...

This was no time to be dwelling on advantages and disadvantages! She was supposed to be a Maximal at the moment, and Maximals shared vital information!

"My ship's there," she said finally.

The Maximals looked at her.

"Our scanners haven't picked up a ship… is it cloaked?" Rhinox asked.

"Not exactly. It emits a holographic projection that hides it from scanners and optics. It looks like a hill."

"And you think they've found it," Optimus surmised.

"That has to be it. It makes perfect sense. If they find my ship, they'll have access to equipment and weapons and information and-"

"I get the idea," Optimus interrupted. "Silverbolt, Cheetor, and myself will go by air. Mercy and Rattrap, you follow on ground. And Mercy," he looked at her sternly, "I don't need to remind you, you're a Maximal right now."

"Understood."

* * *

Mercy cursed her beast mode's short legs and ungainly, loping gate. She trailed behind Rattrap and the fliers, but resolutely kept up the pace. Everything could be at stake.

Well, everything that mattered to _her_.

When she finally caught up with the others, her ship was in full view, for all to see. The hologram had been disabled. A thin trail of smoke trailed up from the engines.

Megatron and was standing a short way away, obviously waiting for Mercy to arrive.

The entrance had been left open, and Cheetor, who had been ordered to take stock of the internal damage, emerged from it.

"The propulsion system's completely trashed," he reported. "The hologram looks like it's gone, too."

"Apologies, Optimus," Megatron called looking supremely pleased with himself. "I have no business with you today. Mercy, I hope you don't mind our little intrusion. We were just making sure you had a nice, long stay with us."

Just before Megatron took to the air, he waved something around so the Maximals could see it-- an engine component. Mercy recognized it as a vital part of any ship's propulsion systems. If she had it, there might be a chance of repairing her engines.

"We have to stop Megatron from getting away with that engine part!" Apparently, Optimus recognized the component as well. "If there's any chance of him using it, we won't be able to stop him!"

"How do we get it away from him?" Cheetor said.

"We don't," Rattrap answered, jumping into action, running after the departing Predacons, shooting.

Mercy gritted her teeth. She fully understood what Rattrap was implying. But she _had_ to have that part in order to maintain her guaranteed advantage over both sides.

But she was still a Maximal. She had to hold up her end of the contract.

She transformed and followed Rattrap's example, and soon enough all the Maximals were pursuing Megatron before he flew out of firing range.

Someone's shot glanced off Megatron, and he dropped the part.

To Mercy, it was a horribly ironic way to watch her precious advantage crumble. The part fell, hit the ground, bounced once, and settled in the dirt.

Megatron continued his flight, too far away for anyone to guess his reaction to his loss of the part.

The Maximals, seeing they'd succeeded in keeping Megatron from getting what he wanted (if that was the case), slowed to a stop or landed from their aerial pursuit. Mercy continued running to the spot where the part landed.

She picked it up, brushed it off, and looked it over.

To put it lightly, it was a total loss. Mercy couldn't be sure, but it looked mangled an crunched beyond what a long fall would do to it.

She took her time walking back to the Maximals, stowing the remains of the part in subspace.

"For a part-time Maximal," Optimus commented, "you did remarkably well. I'm impressed by your dedication."

Had Mercy been in a better mood, she might've laughed. Instead, she said nothing.

"I release you from your contract," Optimus continued. "As for payment, I'm afraid we don't have much--"

"I'll put it on your tab," Mercy cut in. "You can pay me when and if you win."

"Oh? You don't think we'll win?" Optimus appeared amused rather than offended.

"Megatron's good," Mercy said darkly. "He knows what he's doing."

"He does," Optimus agreed. "But don't count us out yet."

"The sun's setting." Mercy decided she'd had enough of the Maximals at the moment. "You'd better get headed back to your base. I've got some cleaning up to do."

"We'll let you get to it," Optimus said, and then turned to his crew. "Let's go home."

As the Maximals ventured homeward, Mercy went to her ship to take stock of the damage.

It wouldn't fly again. And now, without the hologram for cover, it was a sitting duck. Its defenses and weapons were minimal.

Mercy sighed and picked up a piece of rubble, reminding herself to be thankful it still provided a roof over her head. The scanners appeared to be operational, and the other vital systems were intact.

She didn't bother asking herself why Megatron didn't just destroy the entire thing. She knew.

He was lowering her a peg. He knew as well as she did that flight capabilities were a distinct advantage, especially since her ship had been capable of transporting bots to Cybertron. He wanted to make sure she didn't share that advantage with the Maximals.

There was more to it, Mercy was sure of it. She couldn't tell what, but she knew Megatron had been playing her from the moment she first set foot into the Predacon base. That's why her first mission had gone the way it did. That's why the Predacons attacked at the energon mine. It was all a plan to find Mercy's base of operations and get her away from it long enough to destroy what needed it.

And now that she was trapped on Earth just the same as all the other transformers. She couldn't quit. She would continue as if nothing had happened. She was a mercenary. It was her job.


	4. Weasels and Webs part 1

_Note: This takes place during four certain episodes. It shouldn't be hard to figure out which ones.  
Also, I am well aware that weasels are not minks and vice versa. The constant use of "weasel" is a reference to her character and not her beast mode._

Weasels and Webs  
Part 1

Mercy sighed as she finished heaving the last bunch of rubble out of her ship. Her ego was still bruised, and cleaning out the remains of her home wasn't soothing it.  
She amended that thought-- her ship was in decent condition overall. The propulsion system and hologram were fried, but Megatron hadn't been cruel enough to punch a hole in the hull to let the elements in.

More likely, cruelty had nothing to do with it. He probably wanted to keep her in good working order so she would be useful for whatever he had planned.

Mercy went back inside, pushing a button to bring up the ramp and close her ship.

Megatron did have something planned for her, she was sure of it. He wanted her for something.

Mercy gritted her teeth. She was taking this far too personally. This was business. His damaging her ship, her dealings with both factions, her presence on Earth- _ especially_ her presence on Earth- it was all business. To treat the aforementioned situations as anything but professional invited unnecessary obstacles, like hard feelings.

Still, Mercy was not looking forward to engaging in future endeavors with the Predacons.

Attempting to abandon negative thoughts and concentrate on the present, the mercenary picked up a rag and began cleaning the various computer screens that had managed to accumulate dust again.

* * *

Standing precariously on the top of a chair, Mercy wiped away the last bit of soot from her ceiling. Putting her hands on her hips, she surveyed her handiwork, still standing on the chair. A smell of char remained throughout the cabin, but at least it was clean.

In retrospect, she shouldn't have lingered, because a knock on the hull surprised her enough to upset her balance and fall forward. She caught herself just before her face hit the floor.

She stood up, righted her equilibrium, then punched in a command for her security cameras to do a sweep of the outside.

Because she was still feeling off her game, and because the visitor was a suspicious one, to say the least, the mercenary frowned when a camera fixed on the Transformer waiting with a very impatient look.

But business was business. Mercy let down the ramp, allowing the Predacon female to come inside.

"Can I help you?" Mercy entreated in her nicest voice, a pleasant smile on her face.

"Why else would I be here?" was the reply. The nature of Mercy's smile changed from pleasant to borderline nasty.

"Then let's get on with it, shall we?"

"If I wanted you to work for me for four solar cycles, how much would it cost me?"

"It depends on what you want me to do, " Mercy said, her manner turning businesslike. "If it's something like--"

The spider cut her off. "I want you to do nothing."

"Nothing?" Smiling would be inappropriate, so she let her confusion show.

"Slag, and I was hoping you were intelligent." The spider's disappointment seemed genuine.

"I'm sorry, maybe I don't understand the concept of paying someone for nothing." Mercy's smile returned. "Perhaps it's because you're feeling charitable? An awfully Maximal thing to do, don't you think?"

Mercy loved playing Maximal and Predacon beliefs off of one another. Such behavior wasn't good for getting a job though, so she rarely shared her fun with anyone else. They tended to take it badly.

Instead of storming off like Mercy expected, the Predacon glared cold hatred at her, more intensely than bots normally did. The mink noticed she might've hit a sore spot.

"Do you want the job or not?" the spider said.

"Miss-"

"Blackarachnia."

"Why, exactly, Blackarachnia, do you want me to do nothing for four whole days?"

"Since when does a mercenary question the motives of a potential employer?"

"It's a conditional agreement. Tell me or no deal."

"I'm going to try something and I don't want you around to mess it up. The best way to see to that is to buy you off."

Clever. Blackarachnia didn't want to risk Megatron or Optimus hiring Mercy to get in the spider's way. And she was willing to _ pay_ Mercy to do it.

"So how much?" Blackarachnia asked.

"Lucky for you, I need more immediate compensation than money." Mercy jerked a thumb over her shoulder, at the remains of the engine. "Know anything about transwarp engines?"

Blackarachnia cackled. "There isn't a chance in the Pit that that thing could be fixed."

"How about scanners? Know how to fix those?"

"Why would Megatron bother with scanning systems?"

Mercy went to the command console, bent down, and removed a maintenance panel.

"He didn't, but I think they were damaged by the smoke. They haven't worked right ever since." Mercy had only passing knowledge of how her ship's internal systems worked, and this was beyond her.

Blackarachnia joined Mercy, looking in on the wires and circuits that were housed under the console.

"Give me twenty cycles."

"And you know that if my scanners aren't working right, the contract's terminated?"

"Understood."

"Well, then. We have a deal."

Both femmes smiled at the other. Neither meant it.

* * *

Mercy wisely hadn't let on, but she had been planning on taking the next couple of days off, anyways. She wanted some time to relax, take a breather. After that, it was game on once again.

But this! This was better! She was under "mandatory R&R" and her scanners were working. Now, she could sit back and watch the sparks fly.

And sit back she did. She even had her feet propped up on the console. Rest and relaxation indeed.

* * *

She remained like that for several megacycles, dozing in and out of sleep, staring at the roof, watching her newly repaired scanners pick nothing up but a few Predacons hanging around the Maximal base.

Mercy frowned at the blips. There was a potential battle, and she was contractually sidelined. Maybe this was a bad time to be kicking back and doing nothing.

But she didn't have a choice. A deal was a deal, and Mercy had her reputation to uphold. For a mercenary, reputation was everything. No one would hire a merc who dropped a job when a better one came along.

Besides, this was the Beast Wars. Battles happened all the time. That's why it was so good to be on Earth- nothing was ever peaceful for long.

More Predacon blips joined the ones that were already at the base. By the looks of it, nearly the entire Predacon force was there.

And then the blips began going away from the Maximal base. A retreat? How awful for them!

Mercy smiled. Served Megatron right. Maybe he'd get Mercy on board next time, to strengthen his numbers. Of course, Mercy would make sure to have the contract stipulate that she'd get paid no matter what the outcome.

Mercy didn't think over the Maximals' apparent victory long. A much larger blip suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Judging by the size, it wasn't a Transformer- it was a ship!

Mercy typed in a command to trace the ship's engine signature- Predacon. The upside was that it wasn't a Maximal ship, come to take the wayward 'bots home.

But a Predacon signature wasn't much better. Worse, some mercenaries used Predacon ships and never bothered to change or mask the energy signature the engine put out. Mercy could have competition.

This was going to require action on her part. She might be getting paid to do nothing, but that only applied to Maximals and Predacons. Mercenaries- true mercenaries, anyways- were neutral. She could do whatever she wanted to a fellow merc.

Scowling, Mercy left her largely defenseless ship, closed it up behind her, and headed for the Maximal base as fast as her mink legs could take her.

* * *

Mercy was still scowling when she arrived. If the newcomer was a mercenary (and by then, she'd convinced herself it was), it was going to seriously regret setting foot on her turf.

Then Mercy saw the ship, and thoughts of maiming a fellow merc vanished. That was no mercenary ship. The Predacons would never let a mercenary have that kind of equipment. No, whoever piloted that thing was here on official Predacon business.

Not wanting to chance being spotted by anyone inside the Maximal ship, Mercy took cover behind some smashed rubble that hadn't been there the last time Mercy set foot on Maximal territory. And, judging by the Predacon symbol on the remains of a chip, the rubble had been intended to be something other than remain.  
And there Mercy sat. She didn't have to wait long before the Maximals filed out, following a panther-esque 'bot she didn't recognize, sporting a Predacon symbol on his shoulder. He looked like he meant business.

Mercy tried to hide without looking like she was. It didn't work, and Optimus spotted her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, justifiably suspicious.

"Nothing," she replied with a smile. She was doing exactly what she was supposed to be. "Do you mind if I ask what you're doing?"

"Nothin' that concerns you," Rattrap told her, walking into the Predacon's ship.

Mercy kept the smile plastered to her face.

But, contract bound as she was, she maintained her seat behind the rubble as the Maximals boarded the Predacon cruiser, then watched as the ship took off, clearly heading toward the Predacon base.

Didn't concern her?! Mercy got to her feet, seething. Didn't concern her? Of course this concerned her! A well-armed ship full of Maximals was heading toward the Predacon stronghold! Whatever the outcome- whether the Predacon had captured the Maximals and was taking them to Megatron, or for some strange reason the Predacon was taking the Maximals to do battle against Megaton- the Beast Wars would be over! Mercy would be without a job!

* * *

A long sprint to the Predacon base did not lift her spirits. The ship, along with the Maximals, was indeed attacking the Predacons. It was an all-out battle, and Mercy was helpless to change its course. The Predacon troops were unable to defend their home from the ship.

Mercy ducked behind a rock as Blackarachnia flew away on her own tiny ship, noting that it didn't look like the latter intended to retreat. The spider no doubt had her own plans, as evinced by her earlier meeting with the mercenary.

Blackarachnia wasn't worth worrying about at the moment. Down at the Predacon base, the battle quickly came to an end. The Maximals and the (rogue?) Predacon went inside, and after several cycles, exited with Megatron bound and in tow.

That was it; Megatron was captured. The end of the Beast Wars had come. Mercy could practically hear her job security come crashing down around her.  
Now what was she supposed to do?

...Nothing, of course. The war may have been over, but her contract with Blackarachnia was still perfectly valid.

Mercy headed homeward, trying to tell herself that at least she didn't have to rush anywhere anymore. Somehow, that didn't make her feel better.


	5. Weasels and Webs part 2

Weasels and Webs  
Part 2

Despite the end of the war, Mercy's scanners weren't silent. Every once in a while, they picked up Maximal or Predacon movement, but nothing significant.

She had been keeping an eye on two blips- one Predacon, one Maximal- but Blackarachnia had been headed in that direction, so Mercy opted to not do anything about it for the moment. Maybe she had captured the Maximal and was torturing himbut that didn't really matter to Mercy either way.

How exactly would the absence of Megatron affect the situation? she wondered. The remaining Predacons were still at large, including that fearsome behemoth of a Transformer everyone called Rampage. He gave Mercy a slight case of the heebie-jeebies.

Maybe someone would come and ask Mercy to take care of them? They were on their own when it came to handling the crabbot, but she would be more than happy to go after the others for a good price… But only when her contract with Blackarachnia ran out. Day two of her contract was mostly over, meaning she still had two more days to do nothing. Two more days of fretting about things that were currently out of her hands.

Slaggit, some R&R _this_ turned out to be. She hadn't slept all night, her nerves were frayed, and what was supposed to be a dream setup was winding up costing more than it took her to get out here. What little she'd made while working with the Maximals would barely even cover the cost of fuel, and now that the Predacons had lost, she couldn't expect a paycheck from them.

And then there was the problem she refused to think about until she was sure everything was over. Her ship was permanently grounded. Even if the Maximals were hitching a ride with that Predacon, there wouldn't be enough room for her, too, assuming they'd _let_ her hitch a ride back.

And assuming she'd swallow her pride long enough to ask them. Oh, who was she kidding? They wouldn't let a lowlife mercenary ride with them. She'd have to find some other way to get back to Cybertron.

A quiet beep from a nearby computer brought Mercy back to the present. Two Maximals were on the move. Why they were in that particular sector was a mystery- to Mercy's knowledge, it was devoid of anything of interest- but at least she had something more to watch than whatever the Maximals and Predacons were doing (which wasn't fighting, and therefore didn't interest the mercenary).

Just as Mercy's attention span was about to run out, a Predacon blip suddenly appeared right on top of the Maximals. The remaining Predacons had been scattered, and Mercy had figured that they'd be inactive without Megatron's leadership, but it looked like her assumption was wrong.

Completely wrong, as it turned out Mercy's optics remained glued to the monitor as her scanners went fuzzy shortly after the Predacon made his presence known. When the scanners recovered, the Predacon blip was gone and the Maximals were in the midst of fleeing the sector. Mercy's scanners, being recent and fairly high-end (and therefore expensive), didn't suffer from normal energon interference, so something big must have happened to affect them that badly.

Just what exactly was going on? Had Megatron planned for this? Was he really that far ahead of the game that he could still pull strings from inside the brig of a Predacon transwarp cruiser?

And here, Mercy was just a bystander. She wasn't ahead of anyone at the moment. All she could do it sit back and watch how things panned out, and so far, nothing was going in her favor.

What had she gotten herself into? If Megatron was really _that_ good, she had no hope of staying ahead of him. The best she could possibly do would be to not fall too far into whatever he was up to.

...No. No, slaggit, she was taking this too personally again. Whether or not Megatron was planning something big wasn't important. The only thing that should matter- that _did_ matter- was getting paid at the end. Other than that, the universe could collapse in on itself, just as long as Mercy got her money.

The scanners livened up again. The transwarp cruiser was on the move, heading for the Maximal base.

Mercy sighed. The Predacon agent was probably just dealing with the Maximals some more. The Maximals involved in the energon explosion were heading homeward. The Maximal and Predacon duo were still milling around their small area.

When the cruiser closed in on the base, Mercy thought her scanners were malfunctioning, which would have given her the excuse she needed to go out and _do_ something.

But no, her scanners were working just fine, much to her horror. They were detecting fire at the Maximal base, meaning that there was a skirmish going on there- and the only Predacons she could detect were the agent and Megatron. The Maximals wouldn't last long against the cruiser. The outcome of the Beast Wars would be reversed, but they would still be over, which was bad news for a mercenary.

Knowing that she wouldn't be able to do anything, but absolutely sick of sitting back and watching things spiral out of control on her scanners, Mercy stood up resolutely and left her ship, deciding to go watch the unfolding events in person.

* * *

Her assumptions were right, but her timing appeared to be off. The cruiser was on fire, flying out of control, heading straight for the Predacon behemoth called Rampage. Rattrap sat on top of the ship, riding a rather large missile as if it was a horse. Just as the ship came to halt, there was a final explosion, and Rattrap was sent flying.

Mercy didn't bother making her presence known or actively trying to stay out of sight. This wasn't the time to worry about how her actions might be perceived by potential employers.

Off to the side, she saw Megatron- Megatron! Free! Were the Beast Wars back on?- fleeing, she had a similar thought to what she'd just overheard Optimus exclaim: He wasn't heading back to the Predacon headquarters.

Due to her diligent monitoring of her scanners, Mercy knew exactly where Megatron was heading, and apparently Optimus did too.

The entire Maximal crew flew away after Megatron. If they had seen Mercy, they didn't seem to care either way. The fact that not even Rattrap bothered to make some snarky anti-mercenary comment meant that something big was going down. Mercy didn't know exactly what, but they were all heading for the Maximal and Predacon blips that hadn't been doing much of anything all day.

* * *

As Mercy tailed the Maximals on foot- what she wouldn't give for a flight mode!- she tried to reckon the amount of time left on her contract with Blackarachnia. It felt like an eternity, but the sun had only set on the second day. This would likely be over by the time her contract ran out, for better or worse.

But thinking about the future wasn't very constructive at the moment. There wasn't much she could do about it. More importantly, she had to make sure she had her contractual bases covered. One could argue that running after Maximals was a lot more than doing nothing, but as long as she didn't actually participate in anything, she should be safe. It was a bit of a gray area, but Mercy was experienced in arguing that kind of thing.

Just as she was solidifying her argument, she came upon the Maximals frantically trying to dig their way into what looked like a collapsed cave.

Optimus hefted a rock away from the cave's entrance and briefly glanced over at Mercy.

"You're hired!" he said to her without hesitation. "Start digging!"

"I'd love to," Mercy replied apologetically. "But I'm contractually obligated to do nothing." It sounded really stupid, but it was the truth.

"Yeah, right!" Rattrap sneered. "You just don't want to get your hands dirty!"

In retrospect, he was probably just trying to goad Mercy into helping, but Mercy wasn't having a good day either and wasn't in the mood to be given a hard time.

"Yes, Maximal, I _love_ having my hands tied at the very moment I know I could do some good! Believe me, it's been a blast watching things happen while I'm contractually sidelined!"

"Is there any way we can convince you to help?" Optimus asked.

"You'd have to get my current employer to either renegotiate the contract- which, due to the nature of the one I'm currently under would be impossible, as it was only a verbal contract and therefore not negotiable-"

"Get on with it!" The normally placid Rhinox's outburst was a good indicator of the direness of the situation.

"-or get the contractor to terminate the agreement early, which requires speaking with the contractor and not myself."

"Fine! Who's the contractor?" Optimus heaved another large rock. Mercy had to move to avoid being crushed by the rubble that was being moved in record time.

"I'm afraid I'm unable to divulge that information, as it would violate the contract." Mercy hoped her technical explanation would give the Maximals the hint that the only thing really keeping her from helping them was the contract. She'd probably work for them for free- okay, maybe not free, but dirt cheap- if she could, but the situation just wouldn't allow it without damaging her reputation.

"So ditch the contract!" Cheetor reasoned.

"Mercy, if you don't help us, we might not be here to hire you in the future," Optimus added.

"I am a mercenary," she said slowly, placing heavy emphasis on every word. "I am not about to give up everything I've worked for just because things aren't panning out for me. You Maximals have your ways and I have mine. I might not like what's going on at the moment, but at the end of the day, I am still a mercenary. A neutral party. The moment I violate my neutrality, I become useless. Sorry, guys, but that's the way it is."

"Then stay outta the way!"

Mercy didn't feel the need to remind Rattrap that she was contractually obligated to do just that.

Despite the lack of Mercy's assistance (not that a smaller bot like herself would be able to do much), the Maximals gained entrance to the inside of the cave, and Mercy followed at a safe distance. She was _really_ treading on thin ice as far as doing "nothing" went, but as long as Blackarachnia wasn't around to argue about it, she hoped that she wouldn't face any repercussions.

As her optics adjusted to the atmosphere inside the cave, she realized just how big the Beast Wars were. They weren't just a bunch of skirmishes on a backwater planet. No, the Beast Wars involved past and future- namely, the Autobots and Decepticons, as evidenced by the absolutely massive ship that she saw before her.

The Ark. She may not have been a Maximal or Predacon, but she wasn't ignorant of their history. Whatever happened here could affect the outcome of the Great War.

She didn't have much time to dwell on the scale of the situation, however, as she had to duck for cover lest she get shot by an Autobot fusion cannon. It was not a proud moment for her as she hid behind a rock while waiting for the Maximals to disable the cannon and attempt to gain entry into the Ark.

She didn't have to cower long before the fusion cannon was disabled and Rattrap began trying to hotwire the doors, but Rhinox got tired of waiting and went to work on opening them manually.

Being a bystander sure was irritating, especially when the lives of potential employers were hanging in the balance. This whole day just kept getting more and more nightmarish, and here all Mercy could do was hope the dice rolled in her favor.

The Maximals, however, were entirely unconcerned with the fate of the mercenary. Their current preoccupation was that Megatron had beaten them to the inner workings of the Ark and was probably in the midst of changing history so that the Great War went in the Decepticons'- and by extension his- favor.

Blinding light emanated from the partially opened doors, much to the Maximals' horror, and soon the light swept around the entire cave like a tornado. The Maximals seemed paralyzed by the storm.

Mercy herself wasn't too bothered by the storm itself, in fact, she was already thinking ahead. If the Maximals didn't pull through, which at this rate seemed likely, the Beast Wars would be over and she'd have to look for something else to do. She was stranded on Earth-- for the moment, at least. She could always do the same as the Autobots and Decepticons and go into stasis for a few million years, then play the same game on a larger scale.

She tried to lift her spirits with that thought. She tried to use it to fuel one of the patented, face-splitting grins she got when she knew things were going to turn out all right for her.

But she couldn't. The Autobots' and Decepticons' numbers-- not to mention their physical size-- were so large that one small mercenary would be ignored without so much as a second thought. No, Mercy decided, the best outcome she could hope for if she went down that road would be to sit back until the Autobots and Decepticons turned into Maximals and Predacons. She'd have to live a very, very long time in order for that to happen, and worse, she couldn't be a mercenary all that time.

That was the kicker. Mercy loved her job more than anything. She was good at it. She enjoyed every bit of it-- well, almost every bit of it. She could do without the stress she was experiencing at the moment.

Yes, she was a mercenary, and as a mercenary, she was still contracted to do nothing. The contract, even if it was a spoken one, was everything. If she ever got off Earth, she could proudly tell a prospective employer that she risked the end of the universe in order to stay true to a contract. That would look great on a resume.

Feeling slightly more resolute than she did a moment ago, she fought her way towards the entrance of the Ark, where Megatron was gloating something awful.

Megatron seemed entirely unconcerned with Mercy. Did he know she couldn't do anything? Maybe he'd figured this into his plan?

Mercy saw someone move behind the tyrant- Blackarachnia. Uh-oh. Maybe Mercy would have to argue about the more vague definitions of "nothing" after all.

Then Mercy saw Blackarachnia activate the Ark's defense systems, setting them on the Predacon leader.

Mercy reveled in the moment when Megatron was blasted out of the doorway,

Silverbolt crawled his way to Blackarachnia, and the Maximal and Predacon blips Mercy had been observing not fighting made more sense. Her faith in the Predacon stereotype failed a bit.

Mercy followed the duo onto the bridge of the Ark, where Optimus Prime sat at the center of the storm, looking like a mess. Mercy stayed out of the way and largely out of sight as Blackarachnia and Silverbolt activated emergency life support and hooked it up to Prime.

Just like that, the time storm faded, though the sense of urgency remained.

Blackarachnia gave the computer a few other commands, then turned to Mercy.

"You!" she said accusingly. "What are you doing here?"

"Absolutely nothing," Mercy said confidently.

"You've been just standing by this whole time?" Blackarachnia didn't sound too pleased.

"Exactly like you told me." Mercy emphasized the last three words, hoping Blackarachnia would pick up the hint.

"I do not understand," Silverbolt confessed. "What are you talking about?"

"Never mind that!" Blackarachnia said shortly. "Prime's spark's still fading!"

By that time, the rest of the Maximals had arrived and were busy fretting about the situation. Mercy couldn't blame them.

"Alright, Mercy, you want something to do?" Blackarachnia didn't look up from the console she was at while she spoke. "Help me keep this guy alive."

Mercy's medical knowledge extended only as far as keeping herself alive and emergency field repairs, but she never argued with an order, so she climbed up to the control panel-- why were Autobots so _big_?-- and tried to think of something helpful to do.

"He's fading too quickly!" Rhinox said. "At this rate, his spark will merge with the Matrix before we can fix him!"

Mercy concentrated on Blackarachnia's orders of "Push that button there!" and "Make sure the power output on that console stays constant!" which was difficult, considering she was extremely unfamiliar with Autobot script, and only looked up just in time to see Optimus Primal take Prime's spark into his body.

Mercy decided that all the Maximals on Earth, especially their leader, were slagging nuts, but she was wise enough not to say anything.

Mercy then scrambled to help Blackarachnia get the repair equipment online.

Prime's recovery ensured, Mercy decided her prospects were once again sunny. Megatron had been thwarted, however temporarily, and the Beast Wars would continue.

Mercy smiled to herself. Job security felt good.

"Glad to see you decided to help out," Rattrap said to her, his voice laden with sarcasm.

Mercy smiled back and said, "The circumstances are a tad different. The contract was modified by my employer."

"_Former_ employer," Blackarachnia interjected. "You've held up your end of the deal a little too well. You're released."

Mercy wanted to get down on her knees and thank Blackarachnia, but instead she just grinned at the femme.

"Primal!" she called in the direction she'd last seen the Maximal leader. "I'm all yours!"

No answer.

"Primal?"

She heard some... uncomfortable... sounding noises, but no acknowledgment.

"What, not even a 'Buzz off, lowlife merc?'"

"He's a little busy right now!" Rattrap told her.

"Gotcha. 'Buzz off, lowlife merc' it is. I'll be right outside, if you need me." Mercy noted with some annoyance that no one really noticed her leaving.

* * *

Despite the fact that she was perched on a rock, watching the lava below her flow, Mercy's prospects looked rosy. Sure, she was currently unemployed, but she still had hope of the Maximals picking her up for something. After all, they did have the Ark to look after, as well as their own base. They'd be spread pretty thin, and they could use another member.

But then, would she really want to work for the Maximals long-term? She'd never even so much as thought about something like that. One of the upsides of working for one side one day and the other side the next was that, whatever the outcome of the war, she'd win. Staying with either side for too long would not only further alienate herself from the other, but if the side she stuck with lost, the payoff would be much smaller.

And Mercy wasn't so sure the Maximals were going to win, especially now.

The mercenary looked up just in time to see Inferno, looking beaten-up and more than a little dangerous because of it, appear in the entrance of the cave. Mercy scrambled over the side of her rock farthest from danger, just above the lava and out of view. The action was cowardly, to be sure, but it was better than being fired upon. Inferno didn't seem like the type to hold his fire just because she was currently a neutral party.

Waspinator was not far behind him, either.

As she waited for the Predacons to pass, Mercy detected the smell of singed fur. Great. Now, not only did her ship smell, but she did too.

Gunfire pulled Mercy out of her thoughts of vanity. She hadn't been surprised in the slightest that the Predacons would engage the Maximals in a gunfight, but she was more than annoyed that all she could do at the moment was stay out of the way. Hadn't she just gone through the same sort of situation?

But now was a terrible time to jump in. Should the Maximals gain the upper hand, which was likely, Mercy would be caught between the retreating Predacons and their escape route. Not a good place to be.

She pulled herself back on top of the rock, only to see Waspinator open fire on the Ark itself. She'd made a bad judgment when she assumed he'd gone inside the Ark with Inferno.

The wasp took no notice, though, and kept firing. The ground shook and rocks fell from above, covering Megatron's escape and eventually blocking the cave's entrance. Mercy had to transform to beast mode to lower her center of gravity to keep from falling off her rock.

The barrage didn't last longer than a few nanocycles, and once she felt it was safe enough to move, Mercy transformed and hurried over to the Maximals, one of whom she didn't quite recognize. He looked a lot like Optimus Primal, only absolutely _massive_, towering over all the other Transformers.

"What the Pit-" Mercy started, unable to figure out how to finish the sentence.

The transmetal looked down at her. "There's no time to explain--"

"_Primal_? Is that _you_?"

"-but we need all the help we can get right now. We can negotiate a contract later."

Shaking off her astonishment and avoiding becoming introspective at yet another outlandish turn of events, Mercy simply responded, "Count me in!"

Without hesitation, Primal transformed to vehicle mode and used it to break through the rocks blocking the entrance to the cave.

Megatron was just finishing off Blackarachnia (whose leaving Mercy must have missed) just as the Maximals got outside. Megatron made a hasty departure, Silverbolt looked positively horrified, and Mercy looked to Optimus to find out what to do next.

"They're headed for our base!" Cheetor exclaimed.

So that's why these guys are so uptight right now, Mercy thought. It only made sense-- the Maximals had left it wide open.

"There's no time to lose," Primal decided. "Cheetor, you're with me. Mercy, you back us up."

"Got it," Mercy said as Optimus transformed and flew away. Cheetor followed right behind. Mercy mentally sighed, transformed, and broke into a run, glad that the remaining Maximals were too preoccupied with Blackarachnia to notice how ungraceful minks were when running.

* * *

Allowing her vanity to take another hit, she didn't stop running until she'd caught up with Optimus and Cheetor, who were standing at the edge of a cliff near where she thought the Axalon was located. The Maximals were looking down, so Mercy followed suit, and winced at what she saw.

Part of the Axalon sat on some rocks just above the water at the base of the cliff. The rest was completely missing, but Mercy could guess what happened.

"Sorry guys," Mercy said apologetically, transforming. "I got here as fast as I could." She let her words sink in for a few moments, then added, "I still get paid, right?"

Optimus seemed to ignore the callous question, but Cheetor glared at her.

"Hey, it's an honest question," Mercy said.

"Mercy," Optimus said suddenly, "how did you find us?"

Mercy blinked. "Huh?"

"Us. Here. Earth. How did you find us?"

"I traced the transwarp wave back to its origin." What an odd time to start asking questions.

"And how did you find out about the transwarp wave?"

"Deep-space fishing." The blank look on Optimus' face prompted Mercy to explain further. "I was sitting out in the dead middle of nowhere hoping I'd find a break."

"Did anyone else find out about the wave?" Optimus pressed.

"Beats me."

"Did you tell anyone?"

"That would have opened up the possibility of other mercs coming in. Look, Primal, I stumbled because I was in the right place at the right time, and because of sheer dumb luck. I didn't even know what was out here. I just know that transwarp waves are caused by transwarp explosions, and where there are explosions, the chances of finding work are good."

When he didn't question her further, she asked, "Why the interrogation?"

"Because if the Maximals back home knew about the transwarp wave, they should have rescued us by now."

"I wouldn't know anything about it," Mercy said, trying to sound sympathetic.

"What do we do now?" Cheetor wondered.

"For now," Optimus answered, "we regroup. Mercy, as loath as I am to say it, we could use another 'bot on our side, for however long it takes to defeat Megatron. Are you with us?" He held his massive hand out to the mercenary.

Mercy remembered what she had been thinking earlier. The circumstances were slightly different, but the outcome of the war was far from being set in stone.

She smiled sadly and shook her head. "Sorry, Primal. I've got to keep my options open. Besides," she added, "I'll be honest-- I wouldn't be of much use if you're going to try to recover the Axalon, so you'd just be wasting your money. But if you want an excellent soldier for something short-term, don't hesitate to call."

"I understand," Optimus said. "Sort of. You're released from your contract."

"I'll charge my minimum fee," she said in what she hoped would be interpreted as a magnanimous decision. "You know where to find me."

Optimus nodded once, then he and Cheetor transformed and flew away.

Despite being physically and emotionally exhausted from the ups and downs of the past few days, Mercy started on her way home, smelly though it was.


End file.
